


like real people do

by BerryliciousCheerio



Series: let there be ruins [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, this is very soft and very gay youre WELCOME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryliciousCheerio/pseuds/BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: Actually – maybe it’s not the full moon that’s magic to Allison.  Maybe it’s, as always, just Lydia.or: lydia martin looks beautiful under the full moon.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin
Series: let there be ruins [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/211112
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> pack night! pack night! pack night!
> 
> it's been a minute since i wrote allydia but hoo boy did i miss my gals. anyway! here's some soft n sweet wives under the full moon, safe and warm and with their pack. this sits loosely within my resurrection au (enough so that i'm gonna add it to the series lmao)
> 
> prompt: allydia + 30 (kiss under the full moon)
> 
> disclaimed

“Ally, help me with these?” Lydia asks, somewhere behind the car. 

Even if they weren’t married, Allison doesn’t think she could resist a request in that sweet of a voice. She unplugs their phones from the car chargers and pockets them before joining her wife.

It’s the first cool evening of the year, cool enough that Allison almost shivers as she sidles up to Lydia, assessing the bag situation in their trunk. Their hatchback had the most storage space, so they had been put in charge of the supplies for pack night – supplies that encompassed a truly brow-raising amount of red meat packed into coolers for the wolves in their pack, and what seemed like all the junk food the gas station had in stock for the rest of them.

“I’ll take the coolers if you grab the blankets,” Allison offers. She can probably balance the snack bags too, right? 

Lydia pokes her in the ribs, narrowing her eyes when Allison yelps and looks at her in offense. “We can take more than one trip,” she says flatly. 

“Lydia, I’ve died before, so trust that I’m saying this with full understanding of the implications: I’d rather die than take two trips.”

It’s like Lydia _wants_ to be mad at her for that comment, for the flippant reference to dying again, but it’s just too hard to keep it up. Her smile is warm and a little exasperated, but Allison loves it as much as every other smile of hers.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lydia huffs, starting to collect the bags of blankets and cushions. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Convenience, mostly,” Allison answers happily. “I’ve also heard that I’m – what was it? ‘ _Hotter than legally allowed?’_ ”

“Shut _up_.”

**…**

When the sun starts to set, the clearing they’ve settled in gets colder – sure, if she and Lydia sat a little closer to the fire, it’d be ten times warmer. But Allison’s never going to surrender an opportunity to have Lydia tucked up close to her, nearly in her lap.

Scott, across the bonfire from them, turns his eyes to the moon and grins. “Everyone almost done with dinner?” he asks, ever the Alpha, always keeping an eye on the well-being of his pack.

There’s a murmur of assent that goes up from those that are running tonight, people starting to stand and clean up after themselves. When Allison makes to join them, Lydia tightens her hold on her and lets out what could almost be described as a whine.

“Mm, don’t go,” Lydia says, her voice soft and for Allison’s ears only. “You’re so warm, baby.”

Well – what is Allison supposed to say to that? She pulls Lydia fully onto her lap and wraps her arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Around them, everyone that’s running starts to stretch; Stiles bounces between them, taking bets on who can make it the furthest into the woods in twenty minutes. Malia narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms.

“Who’s going to verify that?” she asks, rightfully suspicious. 

It’s almost tradition at this point for Stiles to undertake an ill-fated gambling venture on pack night. Sometimes it’s starting a poker tournament with people who can hear your heartbeat and know immediately if you’re lying – sometimes it’s starting a betting pool with no third party to check the results.

“I will!” Scott calls from where he stands, double checking that everyone’s got a set of clothes to change into and a snack to come back to. “I’ll run ahead to the lake? First person to reach me wins, how’s that sound?”

There’s some more quibbling over the rules of the competition, over who gets the payout, over whether it’s fair to make different species face off against one another, but Allison tunes it out, the hum of her friends voices a comforting background noise as she enjoys the nearness of her wife and the calm of the evening.

When the moon nears its apex, people start to shift. Scott takes off like a shot, his years as a True Alpha gifting him the ability to fully shift. The last sign of him is the flick of his tail as he disappears into the woods around them. Behind him, the rest of the running pack in different stages of transition start towards the tree line.

Some others in the pack, less touched by the moon but just as entranced, head towards the small lake that they passed a few hundred yards back. When all is said and done, it’s just Allison and Lydia.

Allison is human, or something like it – honestly, it’s kind of still unclear, even so many years post-resurrection. But whatever she is: the moon doesn’t call to her in the same way as it does to some. That’s fine. She wasn’t generally a night owl as it was and, on any night beside a pack night, she’d be in bed by ten, ignoring her wife’s ribbing about her elderly tendencies.

But there’s something magical about full moons – about how Lydia is limned in white gold and glowing in her arms, about how she seems to come alive under the full moon even if she’s not tied to it in the same way as the others. 

Actually – maybe it’s not the full moon that’s magic to Allison. Maybe it’s, as always, just Lydia.

“Hey,” she murmurs, almost speechless when Lydia shifts to look at her. The bright light of the moon almost turns her eyelashes translucent, makes her look a little otherworldly. She is, Allison supposes. Her banshee wife, carrying on somewhere between this world and the next.

“Hello.” Lydia smiles up at her and so easily sets her heart aflame. “What’s on your mind?”

Allison can’t quite gather the words to say it – she’s not sure she wants to say it. Not until she has the right way to. Not until its perfect.

Instead, she leans in, leans close. She loves this moment as much as she does the ones to follow – the moment of sharing a breath, of feeling the other near and wanting, the honeyed thread of tension that stretches taut between them.

“I love you,” she whispers against Lydia’s lips, swallowing her reply. “I love you,” she murmurs again and again, grinning when Lydia nips at her bottom lip in faux-annoyance.

“You’ve got to let me say it back, jerk,” Lydia huffs.

“Do I?”

“I love you _despite_ your carefully honed ability to annoy the shit out of me.”

“Mhm. Can I kiss you again?”

Lydia leans back just a little, trying her best to harden her expression into a glare. “ _Fine_ ,” she acquiesces, her smile saying that she’s entirely pleased with the plan.

(If they disappear before the pack returns – well. The moon makes them all a little wild.)


End file.
